


girl of thunder

by irrationalqueer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, because i'm queer and i wanted to write queer people alright, draco is also a girl, we have many pairings here but almost all of them are queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalqueer/pseuds/irrationalqueer
Summary: hannah potter, girl who lived, survives her fourth year and a dementor attack and understands this is just the beginning.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so here's the thing. i posted the first few chapters of this a couple years ago and it was Bad. the plot was bad, the writing was bad, the everything was bad. but I couldn't stop thinking about the story I wanted to tell and the way that I wanted to tell it. so here we are, two-ish years later, rewriting this and hoping someone understands and enjoys it. 
> 
> i'm rewriting slowly, and thankfully self-isolation is helping me along. but I have no idea about a post schedule or length. i'm going to aim for once a week updates for now.

As Hannah Potter stared at the tall brick building in the middle of muggle London, she had a distinct sense that somehow, things were going to be worse this year than they had any year thus far. 

She didn’t have long to contemplate this, however, before Moody and the rest of her auror bodyguards herded her forward. Hannah stumbled through the doorway next-to-last, tripping shortly over a large, misshapen umbrella stand. Kingsley reached out a hand and caught her by the shoulder, keeping her upright, and she smiled at him in thanks. 

"Here you are, then, my dear," he said in his deep voice.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking at the hallway around her. All she could really see was peeling wallpaper and dusty wooden floors; the space was too dark to make out any major details, and it wasn't like the outside of the building had been anything special, even if it had emerged out of nowhere. She walked carefully past a few more oddly-shaped pieces of furniture towards the bright light at the end of the hall, thinking that wherever she was, it was a damn sight better than Privet Drive.

"Grimmauld Place - my mother's house," came the answer, but not from behind her where Kingsley was. Hannah jumped and swung her bag to the left, catching a surprised Sirius across the stomach, who let out a slightly pained-sounding laugh as he stepped away from the staircase he had clearly just descended. Hannah abruptly dropped her bag and let go of her trunk, throwing herself at Sirius with all her might. He caught her easily, and she could tell that he'd filled out quite a bit since the last time she had seen him. "Missed you, kiddo," he murmured into her hair, giving her a swift kiss at the crown of her head before pulling her back to examine her. "All right, Han?" he asked, probably focusing on the bags under her eyes and the gray tinge to her skin. She knew she looked like shit.

"Just tired," she responded, shaking her head when it seemed like he might say something. He frowned, but before he could protest, Mrs. Weasley came stomping up the end of the hallway, grinning at Moody and yanking Hannah away from Sirius into a tight hug.

"Later," Sirius mouthed, winking at her over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. Hannah rolled her eyes but hugged her back all the same. 

"Hannah, dear, it's so good to see you. Are you hungry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, pulling back to hold Hannah's face between her hands. "Supper will be on in a few minutes, why don't you go on upstairs? The others are already there." She pointed to a room just at the top of the first landing, and Hannah agreeably picked up her bag and wandered up.

The walls were covered in empty frames on one side and a warped, nasty-looking mirror on the other side, reflecting her tangled hair and dirty sneakers and making her ill-fitting dress look even bigger than it was. Hannah wondered whether the people who belonged to the empty frames had left because they couldn't stare at their unblemished reflections anymore. Knowing the little she did about Sirius' family, she thought she was probably pretty close. At the top of the stairs, she turned the doorknob and ended up...  
with a face full of curly, brown hair.

"Hannah!" squealed Hermione, directly into Hannah's ear. Hannah winced, but hugged her back just as tightly, momentarily forgetting all about her frustration with Ron and Hermione's silence all summer. Ron waved at her from where he lounged on the floor, leaning back against one of the beds. On the floor next to him were several comic books that she thought she had seen Dean Thomas reading the previous spring, and Hannah smiled at how out of place they seemed in this big, pureblood house. "How have you been?" Hermione asked more quietly, letting go of Hannah and sitting down on the bed eyeing her anxiously. "We've been worried sick about you."

Suddenly irritated, Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Have you? Only it's hard to tell, since nobody's been responding to my owls." she said, failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Hermione bit her lip, but Ron spoke.

"It's not our fault, mate. Dumbledore said our owls might be monitored -"

"But you couldn't have responded to even one? Not even just to tell me what was going on?" she interrupted, the anger rising rapidly inside her. It was like all of her happiness and relief at being here, safe in this big, blatantly wizarding house had just evaporated and all she was left with was a well of hurt and bitterness. 

Ron shook his head. "That's what I'm saying, Han - mum and Dumbledore forbid us -"

"And when has that ever stopped you before?" she said, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears, "Were you just going to leave me there all summer?”

"Hannah, no!" Hermione said, distraught. "It was only a matter of time before Dumbledore let you come here, he was just waiting for the right time!"

Hannah scoffed, throwing her bag on the floor in the corner. "The right time? The right time would've been at the beginning of the summer! After Cedric -" Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Hannah continued, somehow unable to stop herself even as she felt a pang of regret - "after Cedric died, and I was completely alone, and terrified, and sent off to the muggles -"

"That's not our fault, mate, and you know it!" Ron interjected, standing in front of Hermione as though Hannah was a wild thing that might resort to physical attack. Maybe she was. "Dumbledore has his reasons for everything, you know that too!"

All the anger left her with a sigh. "I just wish I hadn't been so alone." she mumbled, crossing her arms. 

Ron rolled his eyes and gathered her in his arms, thumping her on the back twice. "You were never alone, Han. Someone was watching over you the whole time." Hannah sighed and hugged him back briefly, appreciating the gesture. 

"Fat lot of good that did me when the dementors came." she remarked, sitting down on the floor next to Hermione's feet. 

Ron sighed. “It took dad, Remus, and Kingsley all together to keep Sirius from flying to Surrey after you as soon as we all found out, you know. He was in a right state, shouting about your dead boyfriend and your “rotten muggle relatives” and begging Dumbledore to let him bring you here.” 

Hermione was still sniffling, and Hannah wrapped her arm around Hermione's legs in apology. "Why are we all cooped up in Sirius' mum's house, anyway?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"It's headquarters," Ron said, sitting back down next to the comic books again, apparently deciding Hannah no longer posed a threat. "I've no idea why they chose this place, though, it seems right awful for the headquarters of a secret society. Grimy and whatnot, you know?" he said, tracing random shapes through the dust on the floor.

"The Order's not a secret society, Ron, it's a vigilante group." Hermione corrected, now thankfully sounding tear-free.

Hannah looked up at her. "A vigilante group? Like the death eaters, you mean?" she said dubiously.

Hermione shook her head quickly, "Not quite. Dumbledore founded it to fight against You-Know-Who the first time. I guess they've reformed now that he's back."

"But that still doesn't explain why we're here," Ron said, gesturing toward a rather dismal landscape hanging on the wall across from where he sat. 

"Well, it appeared out of thin air when I was given the address, so I'm assuming it's quite well-protected," Hannah said, rolling her eyes. "Sirius is still on the run but I bet he'd be dead useful to a group hunting death eaters; he was almost an auror, you know. Maybe Sirius sort of donated the house so that he could be involved."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "That was my thought too, Han. Anyway Molly's been making us clean the place up in our spare time so I'm sure it'll be bright and cheery soon enough," she said, looking doubtfully at a nearby lamp that looked as though it was made from a bear's leg.

"Are you done shouting, then?"

All three of them looked towards the door, where Ginny stood leaning against the frame. "We could hear you all the way up on the third floor, you know."

"Oh, yes," Ron said, grinning cheekily, "Hannah had a tantrum, but she's finished now."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Where are the others, then? Fred and George?" 

Hermione groaned. "Oh no, I'm sure they've got those ear things, don't say their -"

There was a loud pop and the twins appeared out of thin air, right on top of Hannah's outstretched legs. She gave a yelp of pain and shoved them off of her, right on top of the pile of comics, which Ron loudly protested, while Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh and pulled Hannah up on top of the bed, away from the chaos. Ginny hopped neatly over George's legs and bounced onto the bed, landing partly on Hannah's lap - there was a moment of eye contact and a fair bit of blushing before Hannah cleared her throat and pushed Ginny gently to the side of her.

"What do you mean, ear things?" Hannah said, turning towards Hermione, who was eyeing her speculatively.

Hermione rolled her eyes, kicking her foot out to gesture towards the twins, who were still laying on the floor and groaning. "These two have developed some kind of listening device - almost like muggle headphones, but instead of plugging in they just float under the door and eavesdrop on whatever's going on on the other side."

Hannah laughed despite herself. "And why wouldn't you just listen at the keyhole like a normal person?"

"Oh, Hannah, you sweet, naive child." George said, dramatically tossing an arm over his eyes, "To have never encountered an Imperturable charm -"

"- such luck," continued Fred.

"- such infancy -" George went on. 

"All right, that's enough," Hannah said, growing irritated, "I get it. Why were you using them on us?"

"We weren't," Fred said, "you were just so bloody loud you made it impossible to listen to anything worthwhile."

"What do you mean, worthwhile?" Hannah said, intrigued.

Ron scoffed. "There's an Order meeting downstairs in the kitchen, it's why mum sent you up here."

Hermione sighed. "We're not of age, so Molly doesn't want us listening in."

"Which is utter rubbish, since she won't let us listen either and we're basically adults." George interjected, tossing a pillow at Ron when he laughed. 

"Being seventeen doesn't make you an adult, George." Hermione said primly, and George glared at her for a moment.

"I assume that means you don't want to come see what we can pick up, then?" Fred asked, nudging George towards the door. 

Hermione immediately jumped off the bed. "I never said that!"

Hannah laughed, letting herself absorb the feeling of being surrounded by her friends for the first time in two months. It had been so quiet, so lonely at the Dursleys' that in her worst moments, she had seriously wondered whether or not she'd be allowed to go back to school in September. But being here, now - no matter how dingy and dark the house was, no matter how annoyed she was that her friends had been keeping secrets from her, no matter how worried she was about the nightmares she'd been having all summer - she felt at peace. At least until yet another person barged into the room.

"Good god, Potter, how many Weasleys does it take to satisfy you these days?" There was a pause in which every occupant of the room once again turned towards the door.

"Malfoy?" Hannah shrieked, jumping to her feet and pulling her wand out of her dress pocket.

________________________________________

"It's - not - fair!" she shouted, impatiently tossing her hair behind her shoulder and crossing her arms. 

"My dear girl," Dumbledore said, "life is so rarely ever fair. Surely you have realized this already - why should this development change that?"

Hannah forced herself to sit down before responding, so that she wouldn't instead run at the headmaster and throttle him. "Why do they have to be here? Malfoy hates me, and her snobby mum and dad hate me even more!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Hannah kept going. "Lucius tried to murder Ginny! Did you forget that? Malfoy tries to hex me every chance she gets! I don't want them here, I don't want them anywhere near me!" she shouted, angry tears pricking embarrassingly at the corners of her eyes. She fervently hoped Dumbledore couldn't see them. 

"I assure you, Miss Potter, nobody has forgotten the transgressions of the Malfoy family." Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but he abruptly held a hand up. "However, we are at war." Hannah closed her mouth, startled. "We must take every ally we can, and we must protect those allies just as we protect ourselves. The Malfoys have earned my trust, and this is the safest place I have for them."

"But how can they possibly have earned your trust?" she said, furious. "What could they have possibly done to deserve saving?"

Dumbledore merely stared at her for a moment, those piercing blue eyes pinning her to her chair. She took several deep breaths, thinking for the first time that maybe she had gone too far. When he spoke, Dumbledore's tone was as kind as ever but firm.

"Hannah, I am afraid we have had a misunderstanding," he began gravely, "I am not asking for your permission to trust or aid the Malfoys. Their protection is to my discretion, not yours."

"But -"

"No, Hannah." Dumbledore interjected, a hint of irritation coloring his voice now. "I believe it would behoove you to consider the fact that the Malfoys are people, just like you and I. Should we decide that some people are better or more deserving of kind, just treatment than others, are we any better than Voldemort?"

Hannah stared at him, shocked. Was Dumbledore serious? Was she really, in any way, comparable to Voldemort? She had thought Dumbledore had spent the last four years trying to convince her how different they were, but perhaps she had got it all wrong.

“Now, my dear, if we are quite finished with that direction of conversation, might I embark us upon another?” he asked after a few moments of silence. Hannah nodded numbly. “It is my wish that you should study Occlumency this year.”

“But sir, I thought we couldn’t introduce new subjects into our schedule after third year?” she asked, wondering if Hermione knew about this. 

Dumbledore merely smiled at her. “You will be taking private lessons in this, and I will be instructing you myself.”

“Private lessons with you, Headmaster? What exactly is Occlumency?” she asked, head spinning.

“Occlumency will help you guard your mind against visions and attacks by Voldemort, Hannah,” Dumbledore said. “It is my belief that the pain you occasionally feel in your scar comes from being psychically linked to him. You mentioned this pain in your letters to Sirius and he and I have discussed the matter at some length. We both agree that this is the best way to try and prevent this unfortunate connection from deepening.”

“Deepening how, sir?” she asked, confused.

Dumbledore sighed. “Should Voldemort realize that the connection you share is still active, I am concerned that he could somehow abuse it – how have you been sleeping, Hannah?” he asked, rather abruptly.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Not well, sir, given that I had to watch my – Cedric die last month,” she said, only stumbling slightly over his name – Dumbledore was no idiot, and he had to know that she and Cedric had been more than friends. It ached to even think about.

Dumbledore gave her a quite reproving look. “I merely meant to inquire as to whether or not you had been dreaming, Hannah.”

Hannah nodded. “I’ve been having nightmares, Professor, only I thought they were just…trauma related or something. I think that’s what Hermione would say, anyhow.”

“I believe that once term starts, we will have to delve much further into these nightmares, Hannah.” Dumbledore said regretfully, and Hannah bit her lip. “However, for now, I have a simple task for you. Every night before you go to sleep, I wish for you to completely clear your mind.”

“Just – clear my mind?” she asked. It seemed easy enough.

“Completely,” he confirmed, nodding seriously. “I wish for you to clear your mind of all thought and emotion before you fall asleep, as I believe doing so will assist in preventing any nightmares from occurring. I should also like you to attempt to clear your mind anytime you feel yourself growing angry, Hannah.” Here, she opened her mouth to speak, and he held up a hand to stop her. “I know such a task will not be easy for you, as much as you are going through right now. But I wish you to try and practice; and be advised, Hannah, that upon the beginning of our lessons, I shall know whether or not you have practiced.”

Hannah nodded, still rather confused. Maybe Hermione or Ginny would be willing to help her research exactly what Occlumency was.

“If you have no more matters for us to discuss, I shall take my leave.” Dumbledore said, and when Hannah nodded, he left the room.

Hannah stayed for a while, though, drumming her fingers on the table as she thought. If Dumbledore had a way for her to stop having nightmares, surely that was a good thing. But Hannah couldn’t see how the nightmares themselves were related to Voldemort – other than the obvious bit about how Cedric wouldn’t be dead if it wasn’t for Voldemort. So then the bigger reason for the lessons would be the pain in her scar – and how could being mentally linked to Voldemort cause Hannah physical pain? 

There was no question that Dumbledore was keeping something from her – but perhaps Sirius knew, since he was apparently divulging the content of their letters to the headmaster behind Hannah’s back. Hannah tried not to be irritated about that, but it was surprisingly difficult. She knew, after all, that Sirius loved her; she knew how worried he’d been about her during the tournament, and he must have turned to Dumbledore in desperation. She wondered whether Sirius had told Dumbledore about everything she’d said in her letters or just the Voldemort-related content. The thought of the headmaster knowing about her crush on Cho Chang seemed too embarrassing to contemplate, and she had another brief flash of anger towards Sirius before she remembered she was supposed to try and remain calm instead of angry.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Hannah looked up, half-expecting Sirius to come bounding through just because she had been thinking of him. In fact, Remus Lupin walked into the room, a half-smile on his face as he pointed at the chair across from Hannah; she nodded, indicating he should sit. She’d written plenty of letters to him the previous year, too, and she was almost as happy to see him as she was to see Sirius and the others. 

“I bet you’re glad there’s a permanent silencing charm on the dining room right about now, Hannah.” He said, pulling a mug toward himself and waving his wand at a nearby kettle to put it to boil. When Hannah merely stared, he chuckled. “The charms on this house are old and don’t quite hold up to a werewolf’s senses. I heard you shouting at the headmaster earlier.”

Hannah blushed, slamming her head on the table and groaning. “Everyone in this house is going to think I’m utterly mad by the time we go back to school, aren’t they?”

Remus laughed outright at that, reaching over and ruffling her hair. “Not any madder than usual, no. Although I’d consider maybe keeping the yelling to a minimum, from now on.” He said.

“I guess I can manage that, although how else will I release all of the teen angst?” Hannah replied drily, sitting up once more and reaching greedily for the cup of tea that Remus pushed toward her. He snorted and smiled at her as she took a grateful sip, feeling the comforting drink warm her all the way through. 

“Remus,” she began, wrapping her hands around her mug, “did you ever feel…guilty, after my mum and dad died? Even though you had nothing to do with it?” she asked, avoiding eye contact. 

Remus sighed. “Of course I did, Hannah. Your mum was my best friend for a long time, and I loved your dad like a brother. To know that I hadn’t been able to save them – “ he paused, clearing his throat, “ – it was very hard to deal with for a very long time. Survivor’s guilt is a menace in war.”

Hannah bit her lip, looking up at Remus as he watched her calmly. “I have these nightmares,” she said, “about Ced, and the graveyard. And I didn’t want to write about it because I was angry and alone, but I just feel so…if he hadn’t grabbed the cup…”

Remus reached out and took one of her hands in his, squeezing gently to get her attention. “Hannah, you know that Cedric’s death wasn’t your fault. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he lost his life for it.”

Hannah frowned, trying to stay calm still and fight the sadness she could feel creeping up on her. “I told him to grab hold of the cup, though. I said we should do it together. I made him do it.”

Remus shook his head, still holding her hand. “You didn’t make him do anything, Hannah, you’re too noble for your own good. Cedric took the cup because he wanted to celebrate the fact that you both made it – he was probably just as excited as you were, you know.”

“But I just keep thinking about it, Remus.” She said softly, hot tears that she’d been holding back all day, all summer really, finally falling. “I keep thinking about how – he kissed me, you know, before the task. Said he’d been wanting to do it for a while, and then he just – died. One minute he was there and the next he was gone, and he didn’t even know it was coming. How can it not be my fault?” Remus bowed his head for a moment, and Hannah roughly swiped her free hand over her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Remus looked back up, sighing and meeting her eyes. “I know it feels like it’s never going to stop hurting, Hannah, and I can’t tell you whether that’s true or not – it’s been fourteen years and I miss your parents every single day.” He said, shaking his head. “But you can either let that pain consume you and turn you into something you’re not, or you can let it fuel you.

“You have a whole life left to live, Hannah, and that’s more than Cedric or your mum or dad will ever have. We honor their sacrifices by making the best of what we have, every single day,” he said squeezing her hand again and chancing a smile. “For now, that means immersing yourself in the rest of the summer; seeing your friends, spending time with your godfather. Cedric wouldn’t want you to wallow.”

Hannah took a deep breath, squeezing Remus’ hand back and giving him a small smile. They lapsed into an amiable silence that reminded her of third year, sitting in his office at Hogwarts after listening to him talk about her parents. It was nearly as comforting as the tea itself, particularly as he had seemed to loosen up once Snape outed him as a werewolf to the wizarding world; clearly keeping the secret had been taking a toll on him. She wasn’t sure how private the letters they’d exchanged all year had been, but she reveled in their correspondence because he was an adult that had no reason to treat her with importance whatsoever – he wasn’t a relative or a godparent, he was just a kind, wise friend. And he never treated her like a child, in their letters or in person, and she was so bloody tired of being lied to and treated like a child that he’d quickly become her favorite go-to for advice. She supposed she really was lucky that it was Remus and not Sirius who had come and found her after her fight with Dumbledore.

“Delphine apologized to me, you know.” Remus said, finally. Hannah looked up, listening intently. “She came here about two weeks ago, and on her first night here she singled me out. Told me that her father had told her I was a suspected werewolf over the summer hols before term started and that’s why she was so awful in my class.”

“She’s awful all the time, Remus, you needn’t feel singled out.” Hannah interjected, unable to help herself, but fell silent at Remus’ quelling look.

“She apologized, Hannah. To me. To the Malfoys, I’m nothing more than a half-breed, a filthy mudblood.” He said, ignoring Hannah’s outraged objections. “And yet it was important enough to her that I know that she felt bad for acting like a brat in my class two years ago that she actually apologized to me. Lucius hasn’t acknowledged me once, but Delphine and Narcissa have been very kind, and I think you should give them a chance.” He finished quietly.

Hannah sighed. “That seems to be the consensus, yeah.” She said. “But I still don’t understand how I’m just supposed to forget all of the rotten things she’s done to my friends just because everyone else has.”

“Hannah, has it ever occurred to you that Delphine is just a girl?” Remus asked, genuine curiosity on his face. 

Hannah snorted. “Of course I know she’s a bloody girl, Remus, that would be rather difficult to miss.”

Remus shook his head. “I mean in a specific sense, Hannah. She’s a child; you both are. She may rile you up at school, but she isn’t responsible for her parents’ mistakes, and a schoolyard rivalry is no reason to hold a grudge. Not in the real world.” He said, shrugging his shoulders when she just stared. “Your father did a lot of truly obnoxious things to get Lily’s attention when we were in school, you know.” When Hannah blanched, he roared with laughter. “I’m certainly not saying that Delphine is going after you for the same reason – just that perhaps if you just give her the attention she’s clearly after when she’s baiting you, perhaps she’ll surprise you.”

And with that, Remus set his empty mug neatly in the sink and headed out of the kitchen, leaving Hannah’s mind spinning once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein we have a series of important conversations.

Hannah sighed, sitting back on her heels and running a grubby hand through her hair, smearing her forehead with grime as she did so. Next to her, Ron kept scrubbing the floor, muttering to himself; Ginny had long since given up on removing the dark stain that covered the floor in the small drawing room they occupied and was instead gently going through a collection of macabre glass anatomical models standing on display in a case nearby. Hannah strongly suspected that the stain was blood, and knowing the type of people whom had lived in this house, it was entirely possible.

They had been at it for hours, and while Hannah was certainly used to the housework, this was pushing it even for her. They’d been sent upstairs shortly after breakfast and Molly had set them to the task of cleaning this room from top to bottom, in the hopes that it could be used as another bedroom. They’d managed to rid the room of dust and doxies alike, but this did nearly nothing to alleviate the general dark atmosphere in the room; however, Hannah supposed that expanding the number of usable bedrooms in Grimmauld Place would become necessary if Sirius kept adopting waifs and strays like the Malfoys and, of course, Hannah herself.

“Why doesn’t Delphine have to help us clean?” she asked, twisting her hair into a bun atop her head. She hadn’t seen Malfoy all day, in fact; not even at breakfast when Mrs. Weasley had given out orders and separated the lot of them into different areas of the house to clean. Ron, clearly thrilled for an excuse to stop scrubbing, dropped his rag and flopped on the ground, stretching out and groaning as his back popped. Hannah eyed him in fascinated disbelief.

“Mum and Mrs. Malfoy have been trying to de-curse the rooms so we can clean them, actually,” Ginny said, stretching out on the already de-stained patch of floor and letting her hair fan out above her. The sun coming through the window seemed to catch every strand, Hannah thought. “I reckon Delph is helping them out, since she’s a Black and mum’s not; mum can’t feel the cursed stuff as keenly as Delph and Mrs. Malfoy can.”

Hannah grimaced. “You’re calling her Delph, now? How familiar do we really need to be with her?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Not all of us have to be emotionally eleven years old forever, Hannah. Some of us can learn to let go. I like Delph, she’s dead funny.”

“Her dad tried to kill you, Gin!” Hannah retorted, a blush rising in her cheeks at the accusation that she was emotionally stunted; it was, after all, the same thing Hermione had said the previous night when she’d vented about Delphine being allowed to live at Grimmauld with them, and it still stung a bit. They hadn’t spoken after her conversations with Dumbledore and Remus, and Hannah was glad to have been put with Ginny and Ron today, eager to avoid Hermione as long as she could.

“Yeah, but Delph’s not her dad,” Ginny reasoned, shrugging, “And anyway, he didn’t really know what he was doing when he gave me that diary. He just did what he was told to do.”

Ron snorted. “Don’t tell me you believe all that rot about Lucius being Imperiused too.”

Ginny sat up and scoffed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “Of course not. But you don’t have to be Imperiused to be forced to do something. Muggles force each other to do daft things all the time, and it’s not like the twins had you under mind control every time they made you do anything when we were kids, right?”

“You know it’s not the same thing, Gin, he’s a bad person!” Ron replied.

“But that doesn’t matter, not really!” Ginny said. “It’s not up to us to decide who’s good and who’s bad. If actions were the only thing that condemned a person, I wouldn’t still be here today, would I?” She asked pointedly, “or have you forgotten about the things I actually did when Voldemort possessed me?

Hannah bit her lip, supposing Ginny had a point; it was, after all, pretty much the same thing Dumbledore had been trying to explain to her the previous evening, and she reckoned that as much as she disliked it, it was only fair. Ron merely shook his head and sighed at her, however. “You think Lucius did the things he did in the first war because of fear, but there’s no way that’s enough to motivate a person to torture another person. Or to smuggle a cursed diary to an eleven year old, for that matter.”

“That’s the point, though, Ron!” Ginny said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You don’t get to decide what excuses Lucius and what doesn’t! Maybe he started following Voldemort because he genuinely believed some of the things he was saying – don’t you look at me like that!” she paused, angrily shaking a finger at Ron and looking, briefly, exactly like her mother, “Mum’s told me about some of it, when Voldemort first came around some people really thought he had the right idea, he said a lot of things about protecting wizarding traditions and culture, stuff purebloods love to talk about! It was only when he decided murdering muggles and muggleborns was the best way to do it that people started thinking he was a nutter.”

“Mum and Dad would’ve never supported You-Know-Who!” Ron said loudly, slamming a rag on the ground, the tips of his ears bright red.

Ginny rolled her eyes once again. “Of course not, the Weasleys have been blood traitors for centuries! I only meant that loads of purebloods joined up for what they thought was cultural preservation or some shit, and then ended up being wrapped up in everything else because they were too terrified to get out!” she said, shaking her head. “Not everything is black-and-white, Ron, and refusing to believe that is how idiots like Fudge manage to pretend that Voldemort is actually dead!”

“Doesn’t excuse the Malfoys, though,” muttered Ron, glowering at the floor.

“Oh, Ron, of course it doesn’t.” Hannah sighed, not wanting to get wrapped up in an argument between her friends – but as she had started it, she supposed she had better end it, too. “Gin’s just saying we have to give them a chance, open our minds and whatnot. Dumbledore told me the same thing yesterday.”

Ginny nodded, smiling at her, so Hannah continued. “I don’t think we have to be friends with Malfoy, but we shouldn’t punish her for the choices her parents have made. She’s a git all on her own, after all.” She said, laughing when Ginny just shook her head.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs had him slamming his jaw shut, eyes wide; Ginny and Hannah both hastily returned to cleaning the floor, just in time for Mrs. Weasley to appear in the doorway, looking frazzled and wearing long yellow gloves and a matching, soot-stained apron. To Hannah’s surprise, Narcissa Malfoy was just behind her, similarly outfitted. Mrs. Malfoy looked just as lovely as ever, though, which Hannah found herself resenting just slightly.

“Down to the kitchen, you three, it’s nearly lunchtime,” Mrs. Weasley said, sighing at the state of the floor and eyeing them reproachfully, “I can’t imagine how you didn’t manage to finish this room; Hermione, Bill, and Sirius have already finished the lounge and it’s twice this size.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and darted past her mum, smiling politely at Mrs. Malfoy as she passed. Mrs. Malfoy smiled back and patted Mrs. Weasley on the shoulder. “It’s hardly their fault, Molly, I’m fairly certain that stain was there even when I was a girl.” She stepped forward, shooting a charm at the curtains that seemed to let them allow more light in, and lit the ugly silver wall sconces at the same time. A light, airy smell of lavender filled the room. “You see, it’s really much improved once we let a little sunshine in.” she finished, quirking a small smile at Hannah, who, with significant effort, hoisted a smile on her face in return.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, gesturing once more for Ron and Hannah to get up, shaking her head as they passed her through the hallway. They met Hermione and Sirius on the landing below them and all together tiptoed down the stairs, giggling as Sirius dramatically held a finger to his lips as they passed by his mum’s sleeping portrait. As they walked into the kitchen, Sirius threw an arm around Hannah’s shoulders and squeezed her close to him briefly.

“All right, Han?” he whispered, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged, unsure if she was still upset with him about divulging the contents of their letters to Dumbledore all summer. “Listen, after lunch, come have a chat with me. There’s something I’d like to show you.” He said, clapping her on the shoulder once more and then withdrawing his arm, finding a seat at the table next to Remus.

Hannah, left confused and not a bit apprehensive, sat down between Ginny and Ron and listened inattentively to the conversations around her, picking at her lettuce and tomato sandwich and watching the way Mrs. Malfoy laughed and joked with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the other end of the table. Lucius and Delphine were not present, and Hannah wondered if they were hiding or had just chosen to keep working through lunch. Hannah had no doubt that Lucius Malfoy would know just as much about cursed objects as Mrs. Weasley or Mrs. Malfoy, after all.

Just when she had decided she couldn’t bear to try and eat another bite, Sirius looked directly at her, nodding his head toward the door, a mischievous look in his eye. Hannah grinned despite herself and stood up hastily, slipping through the door before Mrs. Weasley could notice and stop her from going off on her own; she knew, after all, that more cleaning was on the agenda for the afternoon. She dithered in the hallway a moment or two before Sirius reappeared, and he grinned at her, ruffling her hair and guiding her further down the long hallway in a direction she hadn’t been yet.

The room they entered was somewhat brighter than the rest of the house, and Hannah could immediately tell that Mrs. Malfoy had already been here; the curtains had had the same spell done on them as in the room upstairs, and the air was pleasantly scented of lavender. Sirius walked up to the long far wall and pulled a cord, drawing back the heavy emerald curtain in front of it to reveal a tapestry.

“My family tree,” he said, his voice sounding bitter and almost nostalgic. “The whole Black family is on here; goes back six or seven generations I think. Here,” he pointed at a black spot near the very bottom, “is where I used to be. Before mum burned me off, of course.” Hannah crouched down and inspected it, reaching out and touching the scorch mark and noting that Sirius had a brother, marked next to him as Regulus Black.

“Happened when I was disowned.” He said matter-of-factly, pointing next at another black spot nearly diagonal from his, “This is where my aunt Andy was. She married a muggleborn. He’s all right, they’re Tonks’ parents.” Hannah looked up, surprised, but he laughed before she could ask the question. “Yeah, we’re all related, wizarding Britain; it’s only the really snobby ones who pretend we’re not. The Weasleys are my cousins, you know?” he said, smiling. “The only real difference is that some families blasted their halfbloods and squibs off the tree, and some didn’t. I’ll give you one guess as to which type of family mine was.” He said ruefully.

“The Malfoy’s are on here of course,” he continued, and pointing at a spot labeled Narcissa Black, unburned and linked to Lucius Malfoy, who had his own tree extending upwards and off the side of the rest of the tapestry. “Delph’s on here, too, obviously. But that’s not what I wanted to show you,” he said, extending a hand to help her off the floor. She stood up, brushing dust off the back of her jeans, and followed him as he dragged her across the wall and pointed to a spot at about three-quarters of the way up the tapestry.

And there it was: James Potter, son of Fleamont and Euphemia, in gold thread. A whole line of Potters, crossing over and over with even older names she had no hope of knowing. Hannah’s jaw dropped and she reached up greedily, tracing the threads with her finger, mind spinning.

“Your dad was a pureblood, of course; my cousin by a few degrees of separation,” Sirius said quietly, his hand falling down to her shoulder, anchoring her as she felt her eyes tear up, rather inexplicably. “Your mum’s not on there, though. Muggleborn, you know.” He said, raising his wand to the tapestry. “I want to change that, though. I can’t say much for my family, but you should’ve been allowed to enjoy yours. You belong here, Hannah.” Hannah watched, fascinated, as thin golden threads knitted themselves into the tapestry, spelling out first her mother’s name and then her own. She didn’t have a hope of holding back the tears any longer, and instead turned and pressed her face into Sirius’ chest, gripping his t-shirt and feeling him wrap his arms around her sturdily.

“C’mon, pronglet, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he teased, although his own voice was suspiciously gruff.

Hannah groaned. “I’ll stop, but only if you never call me that again. Way to ruin a moment, padfoot.” She said, swiping her hands across her eyes and punching him lightly on the arm. He snorted, shaking his head and pulling away, throwing himself onto the nearby couch. Hannah stepped back and stared at the tapestry some more, grinning at her name, her parents’ names.

“Why didn’t you add yourself back on there?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Sirius shrugged. “Once you’ve been burned off you can’t be added back on. The tapestry is magic, after all.”

“That’s rubbish,” she said, shaking her head. “what if someone burned you off by accident? What if there was a fire? Would the whole family tree just be black spots?”

Sirius laughed at her, tossing his hand through his hair. “Supposedly if you can redeem yourself to your ancestors after being disowned, the tapestry can put you back. Hasn’t happened yet, though, at least not in recent history.”

“Isn’t it sort of sad, though?” Hannah asked, sitting on the floor by Sirius’ burned mark. “It’s your whole family, right here on this wall, and you don’t get to really be a part of it.”

“I’ll be honest, Hannah; my family really wasn’t worth being a part of, at least not back then.” Sirius said, a dark look crossing his face. “All the good people were either disinherited or died when I was young, and the rest were all complete nutters.”

“That’ll be the inbreeding, of course,” came the voice of Mrs. Malfoy, who was leaning against the doorframe and smiling tentatively. Sirius laughed loudly, his smile open and easy for her, and Mrs. Malfoy seemed to relax, coming fully into the room and, to Hannah’s surprise, sitting down right next to her. “I used to love coming in here and looking at the tapestry, wondering about the people on it.”

“Believe me, it’s lucky for you that you had the actual opportunity to wonder,” Sirius said, grimacing at the look Mrs. Malfoy shot him.

“Not everyone was all bad, Sirius, really. Alphard was always kind to you, wasn’t he?” Mrs. Malfoy said, smiling when Sirius nodded. “Aunt Walburga was always a bit mad, I admit.” She said, sighing.

“A bit mad?” Sirius snorted, shaking his head. “She was more than ‘a bit’, Cissy.”

Mrs. Malfoy pursed her lips, her expression going quite severe. Hannah was sure she’d seen that expression on Delphine’s face before, and it gave her pause. “It’s not like you made it particularly easy on her, Sirius. Surely now, with the benefit of adulthood and distance from your fifteen-year-old self, you can see that some of the choices you made were not ideal.”

Sirius sat up, eyes bright and angry all of a sudden. “I am certain you are not about to insult my friends or my goddaughter in my own home, Narcissa.” His voice had gone incredibly posh and Hannah wondered if this was what being in this house had done to him – made him quicker to anger, quicker to revert to the version of himself that had last lived here.

Mrs. Malfoy sat up, too, her eyes boring into his own. Hannah was distinctly uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Sirius. I simply meant that she had – expectations of you, and you were remarkably determined to subvert them in any manner possible.”

Sirius scoffed. “Everyone knows you can’t choose what house you’re sorted into, Narcissa; I was eleven years old, do you really think I would’ve chosen to burn that bridge so young?”

Mrs. Malfoy rolled her eyes. “Of course not, but every bridge thereafter?” Sirius was silent, so she continued. “I will never agree with your parents’ decision to disinherit you, particularly for such a ridiculous reason, but you cannot deny that you could have made more of an effort to preserve those familial ties.”

“He was a murderer, Cissy,” Sirius said lowly, and Mrs. Malfoy’s face went carefully blank. “And no child should have to calculate every move they make so as to remain in their parents’ favor; that love is supposed to be unconditional. Don’t try and suggest to me that you would ever entertain the notion of disinheriting Delphine for any reason – even if she were a boy and you had the same _expectations_ of him.” He spat, shaking his head bitterly.

Hannah was nearly bursting with questions, but she rather suspected now was a very inappropriate time to ask them; Sirius looked near tears, and Mrs. Malfoy looked incredibly uncomfortable, like she regretted ever starting the conversation. Hannah wondered if perhaps she should leave, but the idea of learning more information about pretty much anything was far too seductive at this point, especially since she still found herself angry at having been left in the dark all summer. They had to be alluding to things that had happened during the first war, but Sirius had never spoken about those events with Hannah, only saying that he’d been disinherited when he was fifteen and had lived with her dad’s family until they all left Hogwarts. He’d also never explained exactly why he was disinherited, but it seemed too touchy a subject to broach.

“I cannot argue with any of that, Sirius, nor would I want to.” Mrs. Malfoy finally said, “I suppose I just wish things had turned out differently – we’d still have Regulus, and perhaps even Andromeda.” She said wistfully, looking at the tapestry, where Hannah noticed what she had been too fascinated to see before; Narcissa Black, linked to the burned Andromeda Black and, further along, Bellatrix Black. Hannah cringed inwardly at the thought of being related, however distantly, to Bellatrix Lestrange, but wisely kept her mouth shut.

Hannah turned back to find that Sirius’ eyes had softened somewhat as he looked at Mrs. Malfoy. “We’ve written, you know.” He said quietly. “I believe she’s coming back from the States for this Christmas. You should send her an owl.”

Mrs. Malfoy smiled a watery sort of smile and shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid too much time has passed; I very much doubt she would consider my owl genuine, if I were to send it. I can only imagine what Nymphadora has told her of me. Perhaps if she does come for Christmas we will reconcile in person; I’d quite like to meet her husband.”

Hannah cleared her throat, and Sirius and Mrs. Malfoy both turned to her, looking almost surprised that she was still there. Mrs. Malfoy recovered first, however, her smile growing more genuine. “Hannah, darling, I apologize for getting into an argument with your godfather right in front of you. I’m afraid we’re still learning how to be around one another once again; we were rather good friends when we were children, weren’t we, Sirius?”

Sirius nodded, reclining back on the sofa and propping his feet up on the overstuffed armchair nearby. “We were thick as thieves, the two of us, plus Reg and Andy. Before Andy and Narcissa went to Hogwarts, anyway, and became proper ladies.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes as he spoke. Hannah didn’t miss that he avoided mentioning Bellatrix, but perhaps this was for Mrs. Malfoy’s benefit.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Hannah began curiously, “what was Sirius like as a child?” Sirius groaned, but Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes lit up in delight. Hannah gathered that it had been a long time since she’d been so close to her family this way, given that Bellatrix had been in prison for as long as Sirius had and Andromeda was apparently living in the States. “I know a little bit of what he was like at school from Remus, but not much about what he was like when he was younger.”

“You can call me Narcissa, dear,” she said, turning a surprisingly mischievous grin on Sirius. “Sirius was such a wild child; we used to race on his father’s old brooms and he’d beat us every time. He and your father would throw the worst strops when either of their mums made them come down for tea. The garden was charmed so that one could fly as high as they wanted without being seen from the outside, so sometimes they’d fly right up to the roof.” She said, shaking her head. “My sisters and I would beg them not to, and it was all we could do to keep Regulus from flying up after them. Aunt Walburga would scream at the top of her lungs for them to come back down and Mrs. Potter would just grab a broom and fly right on up, dragging them back down herself.” She finished, laughing along with Hannah as she pictured it.

“You knew my grandparents, too?” Hannah asked. “What were they like? Do I look like them?” Suddenly hungry for any details she could get, Hannah watched Narcissa eagerly. She thought she saw something soften in Narcissa’s eyes as she looked back at her, and she suddenly remembered very keenly how many letters and sweets Delphine always received from home while at school. Delphine always looked genuinely pleased in the moments between receiving the owls and bragging about them, and, not for the first time, Hannah wondered what it must feel like to have a mother like that.

After a few moments, Narcissa cleared her throat to speak, but Sirius beat her to it. “They brought James around a lot when we were small, but by the time we went to school, my parents were – rather not the sort they wanted their son around.” He said, avoiding eye contact with Narcissa. “But I got to know them as a teenager, and they were wonderful. Really warm, you know? I came for Christmas one year and they had presents for me, and a bedroom all set up for me to use whenever I pleased.” He said, smiling slightly at the memory. “Your granddad was a fantastic cook; he taught the four of us how to make all sorts of curries the summer before our seventh year, convinced we’d starve if we were left to fend for ourselves. And he was generous; he made a lot of charitable contributions with the family money – your great granddad was the inventor of that hair potion, the one you girls all used last year at the Ball –“

“Sleekeazy’s!” Hannah supplied, eyes growing wide; no wonder her vault was so full –

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Sirius said, laughing a little. “He always made sure James had what he needed, but he and your grandmum always thought it was important to give back. He also sat on the Wizengamot; I reckon you’ll inherit his seat in a few years. Your grandmum worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, and she’s probably the main reason why we were so kind to Remus when we found out he was a werewolf,” he said, smiling a little. “They raised James to be proud of who he was, kind to those less fortunate than himself. He wasn’t perfect, mind,” he said, no doubt thinking of how they had tortured Snape, which Remus had talked about in their letters the previous year and which undoubtedly explained Snape’s hatred for Sirius, “but he was a good bloke. The best, really.” Sirius said, biting his lip as he remembered.

The three sat in silence for a moment until, unsurprisingly, Delphine walked into the room. Hannah wondered what had taken her so long, frankly, since Ginny had made it sound like she’d been more or less clinging to her mother since they’d arrived here. Delphine stopped by the doorway, looking at the small amount of space between Narcissa and Hannah, until Narcissa looked up at her and beamed, patting the floor next to her in invitation for her to join them. Delphinous sat.

“Alright, Delph?” Sirius asked, grinning at Delphine and winking. She flushed, lightly, and nodded.

“Mum, I think Mrs. Weasley is assigning rooms now,” she said, more quietly than Hannah had ever heard her. Hannah raised an eyebrow, but Delphine refused to look at her.

“I suppose I’d better go help her,” Narcissa said, standing up in one fluid motion, the epitome of grace. Delphine made to stand up, but Narcissa shook her head at her. “You can stay, darling, heaven knows you’ve been working hard enough today.” She left the room, sending one final smile Hannah’s way.

Sirius sighed, standing up and shaking his hair off his face. “I’ll go make sure Molly’s got everything she needs,” he said, avoiding eye contact with Hannah, exiting after Narcissa and leaving a sudden, awkward silence in his wake. Hannah studied Delphine, wondering what to say; this must have been the first time they’d ever been this close to one another without hexing or hair-pulling involved. Clearly, Sirius expected something polite out of her if he had left them alone. Hannah wasn’t so sure they’d manage it, but she could at least try.

“I heard you, you know.” Delphine said, her voice cold as ice. “Last night, talking to the headmaster. You said we didn’t deserve to be saved, and then here you are, getting all chummy with my mum.” She said, looking up at Hannah, face carved in rage.

Hannah blushed, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have implied that, Malfoy. I was just surprised, and angry. It’s not your fault, obviously.” She said, part of her in shock that she was even attempting to excuse her behavior to Malfoy of all people; she was sure Ron and Hermione would be just as shocked.

“You didn’t mean it.” Delphine said flatly.

Hannah shook her head adamantly. “I didn’t. I just – it’s been a bit of a shit summer, you know, obviously, with Ced dying and then being locked up at my relatives’ house and then battling dementors and getting expelled. Truthfully, I’d rather be here with you, cleaning up blood-soaked floors and being bitten by the silverware than at home with my muggle aunt and uncle. Dumbledore was right – it’s not my job to pass out judgement, and I don’t need to know why you’re here to respect it.” She rambled, picking at a loose thread of her t-shirt, avoiding Delphine’s gaze, fully aware that Delphine hadn’t actually asked for the details of her summer.

“It’s none of your business, you know,” Delphine said, and when Hannah peeked up at her, her eyes were trained on Hannah’s hands, picking at her shirt. Hannah stilled her hands, and Delphine looked away. “Why we’re here? I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me, that’s what I’m saying.” Hannah said, sighing. “I’m not going to pretend to be your best friend, but I reckon if Dumbledore sees something in your family worth saving he’s probably right.”

“I met him, you know.” Delphine said, as if Hannah hadn’t even spoken. “After we all went home for the summer hols. He was – there, in my house.” Hannah’s blood went cold. “He was in my bedroom. Mum and Dad had sent an elf to retrieve me from the train, said they hadn’t the time to fetch me themselves, and when I got home, there he was. Sitting on my chaise lounge, waiting for me.” Hannah merely stared silently. “He said he would be staying there, from now on. He’d be there until he could come out of hiding – until his enemies were gone, or subdued. He said he was certain we’d be admirable hosts, given our…previous demonstrations of subservience to him. Said he knew my father wouldn’t let him down again, now that I’m in the picture. He actually said that,” she said, suddenly looking up at Hannah, her eyes wild and a bitter twist to her mouth, “Subservient. As though the Malfoys have always been at his beck and call, made to do whatever the Dark Lord wishes. As though I needed the actual words to know we were being threatened.”

She went silent, and Hannah still could say nothing. Voldemort being in Malfoy’s bedroom and threatening her wasn’t something Hannah felt at all equipped to deal with. She had so many questions, but she knew better than to try and ask them – she wasn’t even entirely convinced that Malfoy fully comprehended that she was telling this to Hannah, of all people, when she was sure that the only other people who knew about it were Malfoy’s parents and Dumbledore. Even Sirius, who had been nothing but welcoming and kind to Narcissa and Delphine and reservedly polite to Lucius, couldn’t have known the extent of how deeply they had been in danger – Hannah firmly believed he would not have allowed them anywhere near her if he did, family or not. She made a mental note to never tell him.

“So, you’re the one who asked Dumbledore for help, then? Not your parents?” Hannah asked tentatively.

Malfoy glared at her. “I doubt either of my parents would have overcome their pride long enough to do it, so I stepped up. We wouldn’t have lasted long, anyhow; the Dark Lord was extremely displeased with father for being disloyal after his fall, and for not being at his little graveyard gathering. I suppose he spent quite a long time thinking about revenge before he got his body back,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He started…taking his rage out on mother, since father had to be able to leave the house to run his errands.” Hannah could feel her face paling as she considered that. Until the last few days, Narcissa had been friendly, though quiet, around the rest of the group of people traipsing in and out of the house. Lucius had been quieter, if possible, only appearing during the day when it seemed as though Narcissa needed assistance with something, and then treating her with far more gentleness and care than Hannah would have expected of the man who had once threatened to kill her for freeing his house elf. But Hannah thought maybe she understood, now.

“I did what I had to do to keep us safe, even if it meant begging the headmaster to save us.” Delphine continued, gazing at Hannah haughtily. “I suppose you think that makes me weak, or makes my parents weak. I should know better than to try and make a bloody Gryffindor understand.”

“Actually, I think it was incredibly brave of you.” Hannah blurted out, feeling her face go hot as Malfoy looked at her, one eyebrow raised incredulously. “I bet Dumbledore thinks so too.”

Malfoy rolled her eyes. “I doubt it, Potter. I’m sure he thinks we’ve been incredibly foolish, squandering the second chance my family was given only to have to beg for our freedom yet again.”

“You’re not your father, Malfoy.” Hannah said quietly. “You’re not the one who made the mistake of following Voldemort. It’s not fair, what you’ve been through.”

“Fair,” Malfoy scoffed. “Life isn’t fair, Potter. I know you’re trapped in your Savior bubble, but most of us are well aware that our actions have consequences and we have to pay for them ourselves.”

Hannah almost laughed. “I’m actually well aware life isn’t fair, Malfoy, my parents were literally murdered,” she said drily. “I was just trying to apologize for the way I was talking about you – I didn’t know –“

“I don’t need your pity, Potter,” Malfoy interrupted, standing up suddenly and leaving Hannah confused. “I didn’t tell you anything so you’d feel sorry for me, I just wanted you to know so you’d stop shouting all over the place about how my family and I deserve to die rather than be here –”

“I never said that!” Hannah interjected hotly, getting to her feet and throwing her hands in the air, abruptly exasperated. “I was only trying to be nice to you, you great git –”

“I don’t need you to be nice to me!” Malfoy shouted, her blonde hair flying. “I don’t need you doing me any favors, Potter; just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours!”

“Fine, Malfoy, have it your way!” Hannah shouted back angrily, shoving past her and leaving the room, tossing a hand through her hair angrily as she marched down the hallway where she could hear Mrs. Weasley and Sirius arguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @ irrationalqueer.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannah spent the majority of the rest of the summer avoiding Malfoy, taking her cues from the other girl. The days passed quickly, with the teenagers exhausted from spending all of their time cleaning and the adults taking it in turns to join them and, more often, disappear for hours on end. “Secret missions,” Ron had said, nodding knowingly, and Hannah was hard-pressed to find any other reason that would keep so many of the Order flitting in and out of Headquarters all the time. 

For all that he had swooped in like a white knight to keep her from being arrested and expelled, Hannah had seen precious little of Dumbledore since the trial – what she did see was a trail of long, white hair whipping around a corner, or an imposing shadow stalking around the parlor late at night when she crept from her room for a glass of water. 

Regardless, she had done her best to heed his wishes and practiced clearing her mind every night before bed and attempted to do the same whenever she felt herself growing angry or upset. She found herself growing upset mainly when she thought about Malfoy, unsurprisingly – after shouting at each other in the drawing room, Malfoy had refused to even acknowledge Hannah’s existence, even when Hannah had tried to apologize for whatever she had done to offend her. Hermione, who had actually formed some kind of friendship with Malfoy, thought she was just embarrassed. 

“Whatever you two were talking about before you started fighting was obviously really personal,” she said one day in late August as they scrubbed out a cupboard downstairs near the kitchen, “and she told me she thought you were taking the piss but I told her you’re just rubbish with words,” 

“Oi!” Hannah interjected, stung, but Hermione shook her head and kept going, 

“And I really think maybe she just doesn’t know how to deal with sympathy, Han, she’s not used to being on the receiving end of it. I told her I was sorry she was going through a rough time and she threatened to hex my hair green.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “And you’re friends with a person who’d just as soon hex you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Hannah, you know better than anyone we’re not allowed magic outside of school. And anyway, her mum has her wand. She couldn’t hex me even if she genuinely wanted to. The point is that I think you should try again.”

Hannah sighed, dropping her rag and sitting back on her heels. “I don’t see why, Hermione, we’re never going to be friends. Just because we’re on the same side of the war doesn’t mean I have to like her. I tried to apologize and she just acted like she hadn’t even heard me. She’s a git anyway, didn’t you see the look she gave me when Sirius gave me that jacket?” On her birthday, Sirius had gifted her with a slightly smaller version of his own leather jacket. She’d pulled it on immediately, right there at the dinner table, where Ginny had pronounced her “dead sexy” and Malfoy had looked at her like she’d smelled something awful and then rushed out of the room.

Hermione made an odd face, then, and her cheeks went slightly pink. “Regardless, Hannah,” she said, “You ought to make an effort. She’s spent the whole summer here, and don’t you think those friends of hers are going to know by now that her dad’s defected?”

Hannah hadn’t spoken much to Ron and Hermione about what she’d seen the night that Voldemort came back, but they knew she’d seen Lucius there because it was part of why the Malfoys were being protected by Dumbledore. It hadn’t occurred to Hannah, however, that the other people behind those masks had children too, kids she went to school with – some of whom Delphine was undoubtedly friends with. What would she do when the school year began?

“I’m sure she has other friends, Hermione,” Hannah hedged, picking up her rag again and returning to scrubbing the cabinet to avoid eye contact. There was a brief silence and Hannah could practically hear Hermione rolling her eyes.

“All I’m saying is that she’s in our lives, now. I’m her friend, and Ginny’s her friend, and even Ron is warming up to her,” she said, and Hannah snorted; Ron “warming up to” Malfoy mostly consisted of sneaking glances at her breasts when he thought Hermione wasn’t looking, “and I’m nearly certain we’re going to be seeing a lot of her this year since she’s also a prefect.”

The badges had come with their Hogwarts letters, and Hannah hadn’t been even remotely surprised when Hermione got one – she was, after all, first in their class, and obviously a far better role model than the rest of the Gryffindor girls in their year, Hannah included. Ron, for his part, had been shocked to receive his badge, and the twins hadn’t stopped teasing him for it since. He’d received a new broom from his parents (and Sirius) as a reward and he had vowed to try out for the Quidditch team, forcing Hannah to run through practice plays with him in the tiny garden behind Grimmauld Place in all of their free time. 

What had been more surprising, however, was Malfoy’s badge – Narcissa had squealed when Delphine opened the letter, and even Lucius had smiled briefly, clapping his hand down on Delphine’s shoulder in a way that had made Delphine absolutely glow. Clearly they hadn’t thought Delphine would be chosen because of her former connections to Voldemort, but privately Hannah thought it sort of made sense – Malfoy’s marks were always neck and neck with Hermione’s, after all, and making her a prefect made it much easier for Dumbledore to keep an eye on her. 

“So you want us to – what, hang out with her? Invite her to Hogsmeade?” Hannah scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

Hermione sighed, clearly exasperated. “No, Hannah, I just want you to be civil when I hang out with her and invite her to Hogsmeade. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for her, this year, and I just want to make it easier.” Hannah was silent for a moment, considering all of the times Malfoy had called Hermione names or teased her about her appearance or her blood status, the way she’d carried on making fun of Ginny when she was only a first year with a crush on Hannah. 

“You’re a more forgiving person than I am, Hermione.” Hannah said finally, and Hermione gave her a small smile, picking up her rag and turning back to the cupboard with determination. 

Before she could get very far, however, Sirius came stomping down the hallway, grinning at the girls and yanking Hannah up by the arm, pulling her to him in a tight hug while she gasped out a surprised laugh. She thought he’d been hiding all day – as he had somewhat taken to doing lately, since nobody would allow him to leave the house. He’d been in a gloomy mood most of the time, and she hadn’t known how to approach it with him, so she’d just let it be. Hermione had privately confessed that she thought he’d been secretly hoping she’d be expelled from Hogwarts so she could come and live with him in London, and Hannah had brushed it off as ridiculous, but a part of her had wondered. 

“What the hell, padfoot – can’t breathe!” she choked out, and Sirius pulled back, grinning.

“Lucius Malfoy, Hannah! He’s done it!” he said, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them, and his face, for once, living up to its handsome former glory. 

“Done what?” Hermione asked as she stood up, face mirroring Hannah’s confusion.

“He’s spoken to Fudge – given memories – backed up our story about Pettigrew!” he said, clutching both of Hannah’s hands in his own, squeezing tight. “Kingsley escorted him to the Ministry in secret this morning and he just got back and told me!”

Hannah stared, a grin spreading across her own face. “You mean you’re free? They’re letting you off?” Her mind started racing – if Sirius was free, perhaps she really could come live with him during the holidays. Perhaps she’d never have to see the Dursleys again. Perhaps Sirius would tell her more about her parents over Christmas, show her the traditions he’d surely picked up from living with her dad. Maybe he’d let her have Ron and Hermione over during the summers – but then Sirius was speaking again.

Sirius laughed. “Not yet – only a handful of people are even allowed to know that Lucius gave testimony; Dumbledore thinks it would be unwise in the long run for the Malfoys to be so obviously aligned with the members of the order, particularly me. But Narcissa thinks with enough – influence – the ministry will be forced to clear my name anyway.”

Hermione snorted. “What, influence meaning galleons?” 

Hannah looked at her, shocked. Hermione blushed, her eyes going wide. “Not that I don’t want you to be free, Sirius! I just think it’s pathetic that the ministry is only willing to do it because Lucius Malfoy is willing to pay for it! What kind of justice is that? What if you really were guilty!”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m right there with you, Hermione, but I’m also not going to pass up an opportunity like this. The ministry’s seen Dumbledore’s and Remus’ and Arthur Weasley’s memories from the first war before, but they didn’t take any of that into consideration until they also saw Lucius’. Lucius showed them that Pettigrew was close to Voldemort and I wasn’t, and I reckon they couldn’t keep ignoring the evidence anymore.”

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. “I am glad you’re going to be free, Sirius.”  
Sirius smiled at her, throwing a wink in Hannah’s direction. “Believe me, nobody’s more thrilled about it than I am.”

For a moment, they all stood there smiling at each other, until Sirius clapped Hannah heavily on the shoulder and sighed. “I’d better go find Moony and let him know. You lot should probably get back to work anyway, I think I heard Molly yelling at the twins already once today, you don’t want to end up on the same end of that anger.”

“Right, then,” Hermione said, tying her hair up in a puffy bun on top of her head and squatting down, starting the scrubbing all over again. Hannah wondered if she’d still be forced to help clean if Sirius was officially her guardian, and took up her own rag, her mind still racing.

News of Sirius’ impending freedom made its way quickly through the Order, and for the rest of the week people stopped in to clap him on the shoulder and hug Hannah. They still hadn’t spoken about the possibility of Hannah changing her living arrangements, however, and Hannah didn’t want to be the first one to bring it up. What if Sirius didn’t want her to live with him after all? What if he wanted to fully embrace bachelorhood and freedom for the first time in fourteen years?

“You’re barking,” Ginny said as she stuffed her mouth with pie one night during dessert, the two of them sat in the corner with Ron and Hermione as usual. “He probably just doesn’t want to get your hopes up, just in case it takes a while to actually get him officially cleared. Dad said sometimes that can happen, especially since Sirius is still in hiding so he can’t go give his own evidence or force the point.”  
Hannah sighed, picking at her own pie and trying not to stare at Sirius, sat at the opposite end of the table between Remus and Tonks. “It wouldn’t matter till Christmas, would it though. That’s ages from now, surely he’ll be cleared by then.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically, squeezing Hannah’s hand. “It’ll be alright, Han, you’ll see.”

Despite this, Hannah remained largely silent throughout the rest of the meal, noticing when Sirius left the table but not much else. After watching Ron make his way through four slices of pie, Hermione looking both revolted and unwillingly fascinated next to her, Hannah got up and left the table, wandering moodily through the hallways of the house until she reached the topmost floor, where she thought she remembered seeing Buckbeak living. 

Hannah opened the door cautiously, ready to bow to the hippogriff, but stopped short and stared, her hand clutching the doorknob tightly. For there, in the middle of the room, was Sirius. 

Sirius, wrapped around Remus, kissing him as though he’d never see him again. 

Sirius, and Remus, snogging. 

She stepped back in shock, the back of her head connecting with the doorframe loudly, and it was only then that they disengaged, turning to see her. 

Remus blushed bright red and immediately turned back around, panting, while Sirius’ eyes went wide and he stepped forward, tossing a hand through his hair. The silence stretched between them, growing more and more awkward by the minute.

“Buckbeak!” Hannah finally blurted out, the word coming out extremely loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Sirius quirked a bemused eyebrow, but it was Remus, who turned around and looked so incredibly confused, like he’d just been struck over the head by a beater’s bat, that caused her to crack – and she burst out into hysterical laughter. Hannah could see Sirius and Remus exchanging incredulous looks, but that only made her laugh harder, and finally Sirius cracked a smile and shook his head ruefully, while Remus sighed and pulled her fully into the room, shutting the door behind her and leading her to sit on a low sofa in the corner. 

“Hannah, do you think you could try to take a deep breath for me?” he said, squatting down in front of her and grabbing one of her hands, placing it on his chest over his own heart. “Just try to match your breathing to mine, now.” Hannah forced herself to take in the deepest breath she could and let it out slowly, focusing on Remus’ chest moving beneath her palm and trying to suppress the small giggles she could still feel escaping her.

Once she was sufficiently calmed down, Remus sat down on the floor in front of her, while Sirius moved to sit next to her on the sofa. Both of them watched her uneasily, and the mirth from before was completely gone. 

Hannah cleared her throat. “So how long, then?” She expected Sirius to begin, but to her surprise,   
Remus spoke.

“I’ve been in love with Sirius for nearly twenty years, Han.” He said, reaching out and grabbing her hand the same way he had done so many times before, speaking to her about her parents. “We got together our sixth year, and when we graduated things…rather fell apart.” He said vaguely, and Sirius, who had been staring at the floor, looked up at Remus then, eyes suspiciously bright. “We weren’t in contact when he was in prison. When you met me, we really hadn’t spoken in twelve years. But Hannah, loving someone for that long…it doesn’t go away.” 

Hannah looked at Remus, then, really looked at him in a way she hadn’t before. He looked as exhausted as ever, prematurely aged by lycanthropy and, she reflected, probably also by having the love of his life imprisoned for twelve years. But now that she was really looking, she thought she might see it – the handsome boy he must have been, once, and the youth that was still there in his eyes. If the news of Sirius’ name possibly being cleared had knocked some of the years off of Sirius, that was no comparison to what it had done to Remus; he looked relaxed, for once, despite the serious nature of their conversation. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, turning now to Sirius – for this was, of course, the major bone of contention here. Hearing that it wasn’t a sudden thing, that Sirius and Remus were in love, were in a relationship, and yet they had chosen to keep it from her; this was what hurt Hannah the most. 

“Everyone keeps so much from me. I didn’t think you two did.” She said in a small voice, watching as Sirius’ face crumpled. 

“Hannah, no.” he said, pulling her toward him and crushing her against his chest, as he so often did. “We would never, ever lie to you; I’d never intentionally hurt you like that.”

“You should’ve told me,” Hannah said, her voice rather muffled.

“We just weren’t sure how you’d take it, Hannah,” Remus said from behind Sirius, where he’d clearly moved as soon as he’d seen Sirius’ face fall. He wrapped long arms around both of them and squeezed them tight. As soon as he let them go, Sirius pulled back just enough so that Hannah could see again, and placed a hand on either side of her face.

“We both love you so much, Hannah; have done since before you were even born. We just needed some time.” Sirius said, his voice pleading. 

“But you had to know I wouldn’t – wouldn’t disapprove, or whatever,” Hannah said, her face growing hot despite herself. “After what I told you last year about Cho –“

“I know, Hannah,” Sirius said, shaking his head. Hannah noticed that Remus had stayed where he was, a hand placed protectively on Sirius’ shoulder. “It wasn’t about that. You just have so much going on, and we didn’t want to add the stress of a breakup to that if it came to that.” He said, and Remus squeezed his shoulder. 

“Do the others know?” Hannah asked, pulling back and folding herself into a small ball in the corner of the sofa so they could all better fit.

“The Malfoys know, and I think Arthur has his suspicions,” Remus said, absently pulling Sirius to lean into him. Sirius went without a protest, relaxing into Remus’ side, and Hannah felt a warm glow in her chest at the sight. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

“Moody knows, but he hasn’t told anyone and I doubt he will. Dumbledore probably knows, but only because he and Moony here had a massive row before you lot arrived earlier this summer.” Sirius said, laughing a little. Remus rolled his eyes. “You reacted almost exactly like James, you know.” Sirius added, giving her an unusually soft smile. Hannah smiled back, blushing a bit. She could only imagine how her dad had found out, given that they’d all shared a dorm.

“You rowed with Dumbledore?” Hannah asked after a moment.

Remus sighed. “What you have to first understand, Hannah, is that the fact that there was a spy in the Order in the first war – it ruined a lot of friendships. A lot of relationships. And the secrecy involved in helping the Order did even worse. It certainly ruined the one between Sirius and I, and between myself and your parents.” He said. 

Hannah’s jaw dropped. “My mum and dad thought you were the spy?” she asked, and Sirius winced. 

“Actually, your mum and dad and Sirius all thought I was the spy.” Remus said, smiling a little. “The majority of the Order probably did, honestly, until Sirius got himself arrested. Werewolf, you know. Dark creatures are not to be trusted.”

“That’s rubbish!” Hannah sputtered, fixing Sirius with a disbelieving glare. “You didn’t even try to protect him!” Sirius looked upset, but Remus kept speaking.

“He couldn’t have, Hannah.” Remus said, soothingly, squeezing his arm a little more firmly around Sirius, who looked like he was going to interrupt. “Dumbledore was sending me on missions and forbidding me to tell anyone about them, even Sirius – which was, might I add, common practice back then – and all of the secrecy rather lent itself to the distrust. By the time your parents died Sirius and I were hardly speaking anyway.”

“So that’s why you thought he was guilty of killing them,” Hannah asked, and Remus nodded. “But I still don’t understand why you were rowing with Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore was trying to send Remus on another mission, which he meant for him to hide from me.” Sirius said, matter-of-factly. “Just like last time, thinking it would be for the greater good or whatever. Remus told him he could bloody well sod off and that he was never going to lie to the gorgeous love of his life ever again.”

“I did not,” Remus said, laughing and turning bright red. “I did not say that, Hannah, don’t believe him.”

“You more or less did,” Sirius said, laughing as well and relaxing more fully into Remus’ chest. Remus rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased. 

Hannah smiled, observing them. In retrospect, they’d sort of been like this all summer, and how had she not noticed? She thought back to the time in the shrieking shack so long ago, and that look they’d exchanged, full of anger and sorrow and relief, and considered the fact that they’d been looking at each other like that for as long as she’d known them.

And maybe this explained why Sirius hadn’t asked her about living with him – maybe he didn’t want her around so he could be with Remus all the time. But now that she knew, surely he’d reconsider?

“Sirius,” she began, wringing her hands, “Once your name is cleared…do you think maybe I could come here for the holidays? Instead of the Dursleys?”

Sirius sat up, his face going carefully blank. “Is that what you want, Hannah?”

“Sirius…” Remus warned, but Hannah ignored him.

“It’s all I want,” Hannah said quietly. 

“Well,” Sirius said, “I reckon we can work something out, then.” He said calmly, but there was a profound joy in his eyes that Hannah was sure she wasn’t imagining.

“You really mean that?” Hannah said, an indescribable hope filling her. No more hiding in the garden from sunup to sundown. No more Dudley bullying her. No more being locked up in her bedroom with barely any food, no more limited contact with the magical world – no more Dursleys. It sounded too good to be true.

“Hannah, nothing is certain yet,” Remus said, slapping a hand over Sirius’ mouth when he opened it to speak. “Dumbledore thinks you’re safest with your relatives, and Sirius isn’t a free man.”

“But Sirius is going to be free soon. And how can I be safer there than here?” she asked, confused. 

“Surely you lot can keep me safer with magic than my aunt and uncle can?”

“It isn’t quite that simple, Hannah,” Remus said, shaking his head. “What your mum did when she died – the way she protected you – the blood magic might be stronger than anything we can provide for you here.”

“I think that’s rubbish, personally.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “Any blood protection like that would’ve died out long ago if Petunia Dursley really is as awful as I know she is, and besides, I’d do anything to keep you safe, Hannah.”

“It’s not a question of what we would or wouldn’t do, Sirius,” Remus said wearily, and Hannah thought it sounded rather practiced, as though they’d had this argument before. “It’s merely a matter of whether or not the Dursleys will allow it, and entirely dependent on when the ministry decides to clear you.”

“I don’t really much care what the Dursleys think, Remus, not after the bloody abuse they’ve put my goddaughter through – all they had to do was treat her as one of their own, and how can you even begin to pretend like that’s what they did?” Sirius retorted, scraping a hand roughly through his hair.

“I would never deny the way they’ve treated her! I think you know as well as I do that Dumbledore isn’t perfect, padfoot, but that doesn’t mean he’s an idiot – I think we should hear him out, find out exactly what his reasoning was for putting her there. We can’t make any hasty decisions about Hannah’s care; her safety is too important.” Remus replied, clearly trying to stay calm. 

Hannah felt at once like an intruder, even though the conversation was about her. Watching Remus and Sirius love was one thing, and watching them fight was entirely another – she knew how reckless Sirius had been as a teenager from the stories she’d heard, and while she doubted very much he’d ever do anything to hurt her or Remus now, when he was angry it was sort of harder to remember. 

“We can talk about it later, Remus,” Sirius said, sounding just as frustrated and turning more fully to Hannah. “Right now I just want to know if you’re okay, Hannah. I know how much you’ve been through this summer, and we haven’t gotten to talk about it nearly as much as I would’ve liked.” Remus nodded, seeming to come back to himself a bit, eyes fixed anxiously on her face.

Hannah felt her eyes well up with unexpected tears, which she fought down, pleased to receive such parental concern but also irritated with herself for being such a bloody girl about it. “I’m okay, Sirius, honestly. I wish I’d known about you two sooner, but I know now, and that’ll have to be good enough.”

“Oh, Hannah,” Sirius said, tugging her into his side once again. He said nothing more, but merely ran his hand through her hair, while she rested her head on his shoulder. Remus sighed, but eventually the tension in his body relaxed and he pulled both of them closer, and they sat there in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to like/reblog on tumblr at irrationalqueer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for being here. be safe and wash your hands. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr at irrationalqueer; feel free to come rant about jk rowling being a terf with me.


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